" "I won't reproach you, Jack," said the other, sternly. ‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye. "I cannot but approve the course you are about to take, Jack," said Thames, "though on some accounts I regret it. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky.
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